Witness
by Rubix84
Summary: What happens when Ste Hay witnesses a crime? AU setting. Stendan centric but lots of Hollyoaks characters.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N **

**AU story.  
****Could be themes that people may find distressing as a cautionary note, but nothing worse, I don't think, than you'd find on the show.  
Not necessarily factually accurate.  
Hope you don't mind what I have done with our favourite characters. I don't own them, I am just borrowing and will return them as found.  
Please R&R and enjoy!**

* * *

**Witness - Chapter One**

Ste Hay sneaked and weaved his way through the mass of heaving bodies in the town square. It was occasions like this when he found his slight build really came in useful, as he squeezed unnoticed between people in the crowd. After weeks of grey miserable rainy weather the sun was finally beating down brightly in the azure blue sky. It was perfect for the free music festival that was happening in the city centre. The main stage was overlooked by the majestic Victorian built Town Hall on one side and on the other side the imposing City Hall in its neo-classical style with magnificent Roman-style columns rising from the stone steps. The steps were currently completely hidden by the number of people standing, sitting and dancing trying to get a better vantage point to see the band performing on stage. All around Ste were people enjoying the music, the atmosphere, the feeling of freedom filling the air.

Only the occasional wisp of a cloud floating in front of the burning rays gave any rest-bite from the stifling summer heat. Ste smiled as he thought of the small kids that would be enjoying a good cool-off by running through the jets of water that erupted from the ground in the small gardens on the other side of the Town Hall. He wished that he could join them there as he felt his T-Shirt cling to his back, slick with sweat. The crowd around him were making the most of the newly arrived summer, dressed in the skimpiest of shorts, vest-tops, dresses, and sandals. Ste was dressed in his usual attire of loose tracksuit bottoms, T-Shirt and a pair of scruffy trainers, which had most definitely seen better days. His mousy brown hair lay flat to his head, the front falling into a soft fringe that he had to keep flicking from his eyes. His blue eyes were alert, darting from side to side, not missing a thing.

Finally Ste reached the back of the crowd, and revelled for a moment in being able to breathe freely for a moment. He hiked his trackie bottoms back up which had fallen low down on his hips, exposing the hint of an inking he had tattooed there. He tried to pull the cord a little tighter to keep them in position but as soon as he let go they began on their journey south again. As if to emphasise just how skinny he was at the moment his stomach promptly began to rumble. Ste moved further away from the crowds into a shaded side street and emptied his pockets. He looked around himself carefully checking he was alone and that nobody was watching him before pulling out three wallets and eagerly opened them up, removing the notes and shaking out the coins they held. He tossed the wallets to the ground then counted the money. Forty-Two pounds, sixty-five pence, and some coppers. Ste sighed, it was a start, but no way was that going to cover the last few months' rent that he had fallen behind on. His stomach growled again, so Ste carefully pocketed the money and made his way to the nearest chippy. He reassured himself that it was still early, he had plenty of time still today to prey on the unsuspecting crowds, conveniently diverted in their masses by the entertainment, so that they did not notice a bony hand slipping in to their bags and pockets.

The smell of the fish and chip shop caused Ste's mouth to fill with saliva in anticipation. He decided to splash out a little and got himself a portion of chips, a fish, and covered them with mushy peas, and then he got a small portion of chips to go as well. He left the chippy and hurried down the busy street, teaming with people walking between the various locations where music was playing. Ste walked past a pub where the strains of blues music were emanating then ducked down an alleyway next to it. At the end of the alley he turned onto a small back street, just wide enough to fit a car down, if you turned in the wing mirrors first. He knocked sharply on a shabby door, black paint beginning to peel and flake off. There was shouting from within, then the sound of heavy footsteps coming down some stairs before the door was cautiously opened a fraction.

A head of wild blonde curls peaked through the opening before the door was flung open wide and Ste was dragged into a warm embrace, head nestled in the soft curves of a bosom.

"Ste!" he was greeted forcefully, pulled tighter into the woman's arms, squashing the bag of chips in between their bodies.

"Hey Cheryl!" Ste managed to get out though muffled in the hug. Cheryl broke the embrace closing the door firmly behind them drawing the chain across.

Cheryl stood just a little taller than him, especially if she had her crazy heels on, and she always had her crazy heels on. Even her fluffy pink slippers had a kitten heel. Her hair normally piled up in a crazy cascade of curls added even further height. Together with her outlandish dress-sense, today being a classic example of orange and purple patterned leggings teamed with a red lacy top and purple jacket, meant that Cheryl cut quite the imposing figure. Ironic thought Ste for somebody who mostly should fly under the radar. Ste wasn't sure how old Cheryl was, it was hard to tell under the thick layer of make-up she always wore. 'A woman should never be without her war-paint' Cheryl would always say to him. He fancied though that she couldn't be that much older than his twenty-one years. There was still a youthful sparkle in her brown eyes that life had not totally extinguished yet.

"How are they?" Ste asked her.

"Come see them, they will be so excited to see you!" Cheryl grabbed his hand dragging him down the hallway and through a door to the side. They entered the front room, it was relatively inconspicuous looking. You would never have known you were in a brothel to look at it. Two large inviting sofas sat against two badly wallpapered walls. As Ste walked through the door two small children huddled up together in the crook of one sofa watching the large flat-screen TV in the corner jumped up and ran towards him.

"Daddy!" the little girl called, an even smaller boy toddling after her. Ste bent down scooping the girl into one arm, "hey Princess I've bought you and Lucas some chips for lunch," he said holding the carrier bag of chips up in the air.

"Yummy" Leah replied patting her tummy.

Ste plopped Leah back down on the sofa and put the bag of chips down next to her, before reaching down to pick up Lucas whose arms were outstretched begging for attention. "How you doing little man?" Ste asked him. His reply was a bright smile and a gurgled "Da," causing Ste to squeeze him even tighter. Lucas had only just started walking and talking even though he was now nearly two years old and it was a joy for Ste to behold. He wondered if the traumas of his young life were to blame for Lucas' delayed developments.

Whenever he was with his children Ste's thoughts always drifted towards their mother. Amy, skinnier than even him, long long blonde hair that fell all the way to her waist, that when she was well shimmered like gold, but as she became ill lost its shine until it was a dull yellow, and then that fateful day when she had chopped it all off. Ste shuddered as he remembered coming home that day. Little two-year-old Leah was sat crying in the middle of the kitchen floor, completely naked and covered in what looked like milk. He could hear the baby wailing in the bedroom. He had picked Leah up intending on taking her into the bathroom to clean her up, but had stopped dead as he had swung the bathroom door open. There red-eyed staring into the vanity mirror Amy stood holding large clumps of her hair, chopping at them with a pair of large sewing scissors, heaped piles of hair already building around her feet.

"Amy?" he had whispered, scared to startle her. She had ignored him and carried on cutting. He had taken Leah back into the kitchen to quickly wash her off in the kitchen sink before hurriedly placing her on her bed kissing her lightly on the head trying to provide some reassurance. Lucas had continued wailing in the background but Ste headed back into the bathroom where Amy was still methodically cutting off chunks off her hair, getting shorter and shorter and closer and closer to the scalp.

"Amy?" he asked again daring to approach her now that he did not have Leah in his arms. This time Amy whipped around, brandishing the point of the scissors towards Ste as a makeshift weapon. Her eyes were dancing with wild danger. "Amy," Ste repeated using his tone of voice to plead with her. Amy just stared through him blankly before turning back to the mirror and continuing with her mission.

Ste stood there feeling completely helpless as he watched as patches of Amy's skin started to show where she had cut the hair away to the scalp. Every time he tried to reach out to her Amy kept him as bay with the scissors, at one point actually catching him on the upper lip with them causing a shallow gash to open up. Finally Amy felt finished with her mission and dropped the scissors with a large clatter into the sink before collapsing into a heap on the floor, fondling the strands of hair between her fingers. Ste immediately stepped forwards cradling her tightly and whispering over and over that he loved her and that everything would be okay. Amy did not respond other than for the dry sobs she kept choking out. Wrung-out from emotional exhaustion Amy finally slumped lifeless into Ste's arms. He lifted her easily and carried her into their bedroom laying her carefully onto the bed.

The house had fallen eerily silent. Both children had cried themselves into fitful sleep. Ste had to gingerly wake Lucas in order to change his neglected nappy and to try and feed him, though the baby was too agitated to really take his bottle. In the end Ste had given up and placed the tiny child back in his cot, rocking him back to sleep, trying to sooth him with his words. But there was nothing Ste could say to a baby that they would understand, and even if they could how do you explain why their mother is rejecting you, why their mother cannot love you like she wants to, why their mother never holds you, or picks you up, or provides you with comfort. Ste sat in the kids' bedroom for a few hours that night, silent tears making tracks down his face, just allowing himself to feel. Feeling their presence, feeling his despair, and feeling the hopelessness of this situation.

It was gone midnight when he finally returned to his own room where Amy was still lying dead to the world. He climbed into bed next to her, pulling her close to his body, wrapping his arms tightly around her. I will save you he had vowed into the darkness.

He hadn't though. The next morning when he groggily woke-up he noticed the other side of the bed was empty. He was not immediately worried, and just assumed Amy was already up and about. He hoped my some miracle that she was feeling better today, as she was up earlier than him for a change. He had no idea though how to deal with the events of the previous day though. He allowed himself to sink back into the pillows for a moment. Perhaps he should remind Amy about her Dad's offer to pay for some professional help for her. She had turned him down flat, still upset about her parents divorce. Ste rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He should really go and check on her and the kids. He popped his head in through the doorway of the children's bedroom and saw that they were both still fast asleep. As he passed the bathroom he noticed the lino floor was free of hair, and the sink was empty. Amy must have cleaned up. Was that a good sign? He continued into the main living area, a walk-through kitchen/living room. There was no sign of Amy. Ste started to feel the first indications of panic bubbling up in his throat. "Amy?" he called out though he knew it was pointless, there were no more rooms in the tiny flat where she could be. Over on the kitchen counter Ste spotted Amy's phone, it was acting as a paperweight for a slip of A4 paper lying underneath it. On it was scrawled in Amy's neat writing:

_Sorry I can't do this anymore. Don't try to find me. Don't try to contact me._  
_I love you._  
_A x_

Ste felt all the blood drain from his body. He ran back to the bedroom throwing open the wardrobe doors, dragging the chest of drawers open. All of Amy's clothes and other belongings were still there. If she had gone why hadn't she taken anything with her. She would still need her possessions. That was when it hit Ste like a sledgehammer to the heart. He ran through the house empting drawers, cupboards, boxes until he had completely scoured everywhere her could think of. He had turned the house upside down when finally he found the scissors that Amy had removed from the bathroom sink at the bottom of the kitchen bin along with a bag full of her hair. Ste could feel his body collapsing in on himself. He ran for the phone dialling 999 as quickly as he could.

The operator on the line had been understanding, but Amy was an adult and could not be reported as missing yet. Not until Ste had made it clear that his girlfriend was suffering from post-natal depression did the operator say he should go to his local police station with a recent picture of her and they would help him there.

Ste had not seen Amy since that day. Not heard from her, didn't know anybody else who had heard from her or seen her. He had no idea what had become of her. That was the day he had met Cheryl.

He had gone to the police station that day, carrying the only picture he could find that Amy had destroyed during one of her 'episodes'. It was her school portrait, she looked so young, innocent, carefree. They were only nineteen now, still teenagers, but since Lucas' birth Amy had looked drawn, haunted, haggard even. With no one to look after the children he had loaded Lucas into the pram, and carried Leah along on one hip. He was asked to sit and wait 'somebody will deal with you shortly' a frustrated PC sitting at the reception desk kept telling him.

Ste could feel himself becoming more and more frantic with worry, the children started to grizzle, then cry, and then wail. Ste felt like pulling his hair out, did not realise his girlfriend was emotionally unstable and out there somewhere alone with nothing and nobody to help her. Leah started clinging tightly to his neck where she was sitting snuffling in his lap. He prised her away reluctantly so he could go back up to the desk again. As she started wailing again a woman who had been sitting opposite him for the past hour asked "can I help?"

"Erm, thanks I'm okay," Ste replied, not about to trust his children to a complete stranger.

"Are you sure, I'm great with children," she smiled warmly speaking with a friendly Irish accent. Ste looked at her. She was in a police station after all, hardly a good reference point. She was wearing a leopard print catsuit and the largest gold hoop earrings he had even seen. "I'm Cheryl," she extended a hand to Ste in greeting. Ste took it gingerly and shook it. "My friend had a bit of rough night, I'm here to bail her out," she said as way of explanation for her presence at the police station.

"I don't know," Ste was still wary, but she genuinely looked nice and Ste needed the help.

Ste ended up spending the whole afternoon sitting in that police station waiting room with Cheryl. He ended telling her his whole life story it felt like. How Amy had gotton ill after Lucas was born. How she wouldn't accept any help. What had happened the night before. And now how she had disappeared. Cheryl had listened and comforted and when she left with her friend (who was dressed in the shortest skirt Ste had even seen, he really did not know where to look), muttering something that to Ste's confusion sounded like telling her not to bite next time, she gave him her mobile number and told him to call at anytime.

And that was why now when Ste did not have enough money to pay the bills so the flat was cold and dark, or could not afford to buy food to feed Leah and Lucas he would take them around to Cheryl's where she and her 'girls' would coo over them and smoother them with love. Ste dreaded to think what would happen if Social Services ever found out that he sometimes left his kids in the care of a Madam in a brothel, but he knew they were well looked after there and Cheryl was now the best friend he had, only friend really.

Cheryl bustled back into the front room with two plates in her hand. She placed them on the low coffee table in the centre of the room then took the bag of chips dividing them up onto the plates. She handed a plate each to Leah and Lucas asking, "drinks kids?"

"Yes please Auntie Cheryl," Leah answered, Lucas nodding along in agreement. As Cheryl left to go make some drinks in the kitchen on of her 'girls' poked her head into the room.

"Hey Ste," Rae said shyly.

"Hey Rae," Ste smiled at her. She was fairly new to Cheryl's group. Younger than him he guessed, probably too young to be doing what she did.

Sometimes Ste questioned Cheryl about how she could be okay about what it is she did. Cheryl would sigh and look at him sadly 'better than them being alone and unprotected on the streets.' Ste sensed Cheryl knew just how dangerous and hard it could be to be alone on the streets. Though she never talked about her past a look would cross her face of too much knowledge too young whenever she brought a new girl back to the house. That was what Cheryl did, where her girls came from. Ste knew about the need to make money anyway possible. But still to sell your body was something he could not imagine. Cheryl would explain to him that the girls would be doing that whether here or not. She was just providing the means for these girls to do it with less danger and more control.

Still Ste couldn't help but wonder how somebody so seemingly full of life and light most of the time, could have gotton into this shady underworld that she now existed in. Something must have happened to her, something bad to give her that hard inner core which she had.

"How you doing Rae?" he asked the small blonde haired girl who was hovering in the doorway. When he had first seen her he was struck by how similar to Amy she was. Petite, all blonde hair and big eyes. And so so young, but with that same air of maturity that Amy had carried after being forced to grow up too quickly after the birth of Leah.

"Yeah okay thanks." She said venturing into the room further. Of all the girls currently living there Rae probably took the most care of Leah and Lucas. Leah looked up at her and said "will you come watch Disney with us?"

"Yeah sure, which one?" Rae asked

"Cinderella, she looks like you."

Rae blushed a little at this popping the DVD in then settling onto the couch between Leah and Lucas. Cheryl re-entered the room with drinks smiling as she saw the kids snuggled up on either side of Rae. Ste looked on warmly too, pleased to see his kids looking so settled

"I should head off Chez." Ste said heading towards the hallway.

"Okay honey," Cheryl followed him out.

In the hallway Cheryl dropped her voice to a whisper, "you be careful now Ste, don't do anything stupid like getting caught!"

"Just a bit of pick-pocketing today Chez, child's play" Ste tried to form a genuine grin. There was always risk, and he already had a record for nicking cars when he was younger. Needs must though as Cheryl always says. He shuddered to think what would happen to Leah and Lucas if he were to be caught though.

"Perhaps you could take young Rae out with some of your earnings, I think she really likes you, she'll make a great Mum someday."

"I dunno Cheryl." Ste hadn't told her that since Amy had disappeared he hadn't really felt much like dating and that all the dates he had been on had been utter disasters. He couldn't even remember the last time he had felt attraction to another person. He pecked Cheryl quickly on the cheek before heading out the front door.

Ste made his way back to where the main crowds were enjoying the festival in the centre of the city. It was now mid-afternoon so he had plenty more hours to scout out good possible targets. Hopefully by night-fall he will have made enough money to get his landlord off his back about missed rent payments, though he could hardly believe that someone could get away with charging him for the damp dump he and his kids called home.

As he pushed his way back into the packed mob of people jumping and bouncing in front of the main stage Ste could feel the air growing heavier around him. He sensed there would be a big storm tonight.


	2. Chapter 2

The gathered crowds had slowly dispersed as the night drew to a close and the final acts wrapped up their sets to huge applause, whistling and whooping. Some headed into the nearby nightclubs to carry on the revelry, others began to head home. Ste sat at the top of the now nearly deserted steps of the City Hall watching as the people walked past below him, laughing and chatting to each other. He jumped up intending to make his way back to Cheryl's, pick the kids up and return back to their own flat. He had made enough money today that he didn't need to fear the knock on the door signalling the Landlord demanding his rent payments. They could go home tonight.

Ste stood up, stretching out his aching muscles from being on his feet all day. A feeling of optimism seemed to hum in the air around him. Tomorrow the festival would start all over again. If he had as good a day as he had today he would be sorted for a few months at least. A few months to try and get his life together. Maybe. He glanced up at the blue-black sky noticing the heavy storm clouds that seemed to be rolling in from the distance. He hoped that the rain would clear before tomorrow arrived, otherwise the crowds could be significantly less.

He began walking in the direction of Cheryl's, taking his mobile out as he went to text her that he was on his way. It was always best by this time of the night to give Cheryl some advance notice that he was coming, she would sneak him in through the back door, and straight through the kitchen into the basement which sort of served as Cheryl's private hideout. It was like Cheryl had created her own personal haven down there. The walls were carefully wallpapered with large pink flowers. Twinkling fairy lights were carefully hung, criss-crossing a path across the ceiling. There was a huge dressing table with a pearly white vanity mirror on it, perfume atomisers lined up along the top of it. A huge glass cabinet that housed all her shoes like they were on display, sat in one corner. Cheryl had a real penchant for expensive shoes. It was like a little girls fantasy bedroom. Gossimer netting fell in a veil over the bed. It would be where Leah and Lucas were now crashed out, probably covered with Cheryl's pink comforter on her soft double bed. They were safe down there, out of sight, two floors away from the activity of the upstairs rooms.

As his fingers flew over the keys of his mobile Ste's attention was momentarily diverted from his surroundings. He didn't immediately hear the sound of the footsteps coming closer towards him from the opposite direction. It wasn't until he felt the firm pressure of a hand on his shoulder halting him in his stride that he looked up. His heart immediately sank a little in his chest. It was Joel Dexter. It meant trouble.

oxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Joel Dexter had been a couple of years below Ste at school, not that either of them had bothered to attend very often. Ste remembered him vaguely causing the same sort of trouble that he had done at the same age, before he had moved on to 'bigger and better things' i.e. joy-riding, and the rest. Stunts like pulling the fire alarms, letting down the tyres on the teacher's cars, sticking dead rats in the unpopular kids' lockers. Two years after Ste had left school he heard some of his mates discussing this kid Joel who had disappeared off the map. Ste didn't know what had really happened, or where he had gone, and he didn't really care. If he remembered correctly Joel had only been two or three years younger than him so he was probably old enough to make his own decisions. Ste imagined that if Joel's family was anything like his own (useless mother absent father), which it was, Joel had probably been making his own decisions for a while by now. Anyway there had been plenty of rumours flying about. One being that Joel's Dad, who had abandoned him with his alcoholic mother possibly before he had even been born, was a Policeman. The rumour went that his Dad had turned up out of the blue, swooping in to straighten his wayward son out. It was possible Ste supposed, definitely more plausible than some of the other more outlandish rumours that had circulated at the time.

Whatever had happened to Joel in the months he was missing Ste didn't know, still didn't really care. The fact that Joel was now accosting him on the street was more of a worry to him.

The first time Ste had been aware that Joel was back in town was just after he got involved with drugs. Ste had never been stupid enough to take drugs himself (or at least not very often). He had come home enough times when he was still a small boy to find his mother lying in a pool of her own vomit after taking something to be pretty much put off for life. After Leah had been born though him and Amy had been desperate for money. Amy's parents had kicked her out, bringing up a baby around his mother was not an option. They needed their own place. They needed money fast. No one was ever going to offer Ste a job. He was a school dropout with too many run-ins with the police.

Desperate Ste had sought out a guy he had seen about in the murky bars and clubs on the bad side of town. It was well known that he could acquire 'stuff' for you if you moved in the right circles. Callum his name was. Ste had always avoided him before, having no need for his services, but one night he had approached him in a dark corner of a bar trying to suss out if there was an opportunity to make some money. Some serious money. Callum had pulled him even further into the dark corner, eyes raking over Ste, trying to work him out. Satisfied Callum had pulled a slip of paper out of his jacket pocket with an address and time on it. "Details of my next meeting with my supplier." Callum handed Ste the piece of paper. "Meet me there and I'll introduce you to them."

"Right, okay, thanks." Ste began to leave the bar, hearing Callum shout out behind him, "if you cost me any business you'll owe me Ste," but he seemed to be laughing. Ste shuddered. What was he getting himself into?

Ste had gotton to the meeting place in plenty of time, checking out his surroundings, trying not to chicken out. He was outside a derelict building, obviously large and grand in its heyday but now run-down and in a serious state of disrepair. He felt like the broken glass windows were watching him, and could swear he had seen the flicker of some movement up on the second floor. The whole place gave him the creeps. Ste shuffled nervously side-to-side as he waited, finally seeing Callum approaching in the distance.

"You came," Callum greeted him, "impressive. Risky." Callum raised his eyebrows knowingly.

"Need the money don't I." Ste muttered.

Callum glanced down at his watch, "should be here in a minute," he said referring to the person they were meeting. Ste bit down on his lip nervously.

"Don't show your fear," Callum advised.

A figure appeared at the end of the road, walking with a confident swagger towards where Ste and Callum stood. Ste squinted his eyes trying to get a better look, they seemed sort of familiar to him. As the figure got nearer Ste's eyes opened wide with surprise. It was that kid Joel wasn't it. Ste scrambled his memory. Yeah Joel Dexter. Ste watched as he walked up to them. He was wearing a pair of dark jeans, a white T-Shirt, and a black leather jacket, but more than that he seemed to be swathed in a layer of supreme confidence.

Callum introduced them. Ste wasn't sure if Joel remembered who he was, he certainly didn't show any signs of recognition. Callum explained to Joel that this was his mate Ste and he was looking to make some money. After some discussions between Joel and Callum Ste was handed a packet, an address and some brief instructions from Joel, "do not fuck up yeah?" and was sent on his way.

For a few months after that Ste did a number of drug runs. The money was good, it needed to be. Ste quickly learnt that it wasn't the police he needed to be worried about, the risk of getting collared by the law was the least of his problems. Callum and Joel both made it clear that fucking up on the job was not an option, as in serious pain would be inflicted on him should he put so much as a toe out of line. Whoever the people behind Joel were, they were obviously big-time, serious trouble. Not people that Ste needed to be getting on the wrong side of.

Sometimes when Ste went to meet Joel for a drop-off, always in a different shady location, Ste got the same feeling as he had on that first time of hidden eyes watching him. Ste tried to dismiss the feeling, blaming it on his nerves, but that didn't stop him looking about himself trying to spot a telltale movement in the shadows of somebody lurking out of sight.

In the end the danger of the job outweighed the money he earned. He'd packed in after just a few months. Tried to find a legitimate job. And sometimes he did. Pot washer, dog walker, shelf stacker. All menial, all boring as hell, all poorly paid. He found that he had to keep slipping back into petty criminal activities in order to bring in enough money. It was these activities that kept bringing him back into contact with Joel.

The gang that Joel worked for pretty much ruled the dark under belly of the city. They had their fingers in all the dodgy pies going, and in some of the respectable ones too. You were expected to cough up a share of whatever deal you had going down. A protection racket Ste thought the cops called it. Most of the time they did not bother Ste, but every now and then Joel or one of their other errand boys would rock up out of the blue demanding money, as if reminding Ste who was in charge. Ste should have realised his activities today were not going totally unnoticed.

"Ste, how you doing?" Joel greeted him as if greeting an old friend.

"Joel." Ste responded curtly, knowing there was no use attempting an escape, even it did just appear to be Joel alone.

"Walk with me Ste," Joel clamped an arm around Ste's shoulders guiding him towards a sheltered alleyway, away from any passing members of the public.

"So the boss would like his cut," Joel held his hand out expectantly.

Ste sighed and wondered what cut 'the boss' would like today. Obediently Ste withdraw a roll of notes from his pocket and handed them over. Joel immediately pocketed them with a sly grin.

"Wait, that's everything I got today." Ste reached out a hand grapping Joel's arm stopping him from walking away. Joel looked at him in disgust before shaking Ste's hand off. He turned pining Ste against the uneven brick wall behind him. "You do not touch me," he emphasised the words so that spittle's of saliva hit Ste in the face. A phone rang from within Joel's pocket causing him to release the pressure against Ste's jugular as he fiddled in his coat to extract it.

"Yes?" he hissed into it. He listened for a moment before stepping away from Ste completely. He ended the call with a surprisingly meek "okay."

"Be seeing you Ste," Joel smirked as he stepped out of the alley. Ste collapsed back against the wall, half in relief, half in despair. Joel had taken all the money had made today, apart from the coins, which still felt heavy in his pocket. He was back at square one.

oxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

With a heavy heart Ste left the dark cocoon of the alley. There was no point going to get Leah and Lucas, they wouldn't be able to return to the flat tonight. Overhead a clap of thunder sounded in the distance. The storm was on its way. Ste started on his way down a cobbled hill, dodging a couple obviously slightly worse for wear who were weaving their way down arm in arm. He crossed over the main road at the bottom and then walked along the pavement that led to the main train station. To his right there was a huge silver wall of water. Ste allowed his hand to trail along in it as he scuffed his way towards the station.

The station was a perfect mix of old and new. The original open Victorian stone arches were now filled with massive panes of clear glass. The stone had been jet-washed on an industrial scale, so what was once black with years worth of soot now gleamed a creamy yellow again. As he neared the glass doors they slid open effortlessly allowing him entry. He walked over the internal bridge that crossed the platforms below, empty at this time of night, then exited the station on the other side.

This side of the station was dark and deserted, except for a dark building a few yards on the other side of a grassy bank, lights glowing dimly from it through grimy windows. Ste trudged in that direction, feeling the wind begin to pick up around him as he went. The sign hanging off the side of the building, which read 'The Frog and Parrott', was beginning to sway to and fro.

Ste entered the pub, making a beeline for the bar. In the corner he noticed a couple of guys huddled close together over a table, obviously in deep discussion, about what Ste didn't want or need to know. Spotted about were a few men who looked weathered and aged through time, or maybe just really hard lives. This was not the kind of pub that Joe Public frequented, and if they did happen to stumble in my accident they quickly stumbled back out again. There were never any women in the pub, except the landlady and some barmaids. Myra McQueen, as tough as old boots, tougher than a lot of the hard-man cliental the pub attracted.

Myra made sure that there was beer always on tap and that she turned a blind eye to whatever goings-on were happening in there. Ste knew that she was clever enough to make sure she knew exactly what was being plotted and planned on her premises, it was her insurance policy and worked a treat to make sure she had the necessary dirt to use as ammunition to protect herself, her livelihood and her family, Myra McQueen was nobodies fool. Ste had heard that she had written down any secret worth its weight in gold and had them all locked in a safe somewhere that would be opened if anything ever happened to her. She had the power to crush the underworld if she chose, or at the very least send it into turmoil.

She didn't though. Bad for her business Ste supposed, as her only customers were shady underworld crooks. She would go under without them, and she had her own family to support. Ste wasn't sure that he had ever got all the McQueen girls down pat in his mind. They seemed to come and go, and were pretty interchangeable to the uninformed observer. He knew Mercedes McQueen quite well. She was the girl who had left the police station with Cheryl that time. She could often be found causing havoc at Cheryl's, the only one of the girls to play by her own rules. Cheryl only put up with her because she was a McQueen and it was useful to have someone like Myra McQueen as an ally.

Tonight there was a petite blonde behind the bar. Theresa, Ste thought her name was. She was busy breathing on the glasses then polishing them with a rag, and didn't notice Ste approach.

"One pint please." Ste asked. Theresa jumped a little, dropping the glass she was handling, which then smashed against the hard tiled floor.

"Oh," she gasped breathily, before turning to Ste batting her eyelashes a little at him. "Sure, coming right up," her smile dazzling him a little.

Ste took his drink over to a small table in the corner pulling up a hard wooden chair. He sat just spinning a penny coin for a bit, nursing his drink, trying to convince himself all was not lost, there was still tomorrow. He could hear the sound of rain beginning to lash against the windows now, though he could not see anything through the grime encrusted glass. He finished the last of his drink, slapping his hand down over the penny to stop it spinning, before bracing himself to head outside. He did not have a coat or anything with him, the T-Shirt and trackie bottoms he was wearing were going to offer very little protection, and he was fairly certain the trainers that were falling apart on his feet were not waterproof anymore. He couldn't stay here all night though.

He exited through the door, standing for a moment in the shelter of the pub entrance assessing the situation. The rain was sheeting down and the horizon was lit up by a fork of white lightening contrasting against the heavy black sky. Soon enough a loud roll of thunder boomed overhead, definitely closer than before.

Ste ducked out from the shelter and was immediately soaked through, the rainwater chilling him to the bone. He decided he would take the short-cut to his flat along the canal. It would be muddy now, but at least it would be quicker. He set off at a quick walk, until he got back into the nicer side of town, where the canal basin was. Here the old grainhouses had all been converted into top of the range apartments. A carpark was full with luxury cars surrounded them on two sides. On the side that rose out of the water a small wooden pier jutted out, lit by small lamps along the edge. Ste dashed beneath the shadow of the buildings until he reached the point where the old canal towpath began.

oxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

High above him in one of the most top-of -the-range apartments a man sat smoothing his moustache methodically. He was on the phone to somebody, "has it been done?" he asked, his voice low and seductive. The answer seemed to displease him. "Well get on with it, we haven't got all night," he barked more ferociously down the phone.

* * *

**A/N: This story seems to be bringing out my dark side. Would love to know what you think, as at the moment the next chapter planned is darker still, and I'm in two minds as to whether it will be too much.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N So this was orignally part of chapter two before I had my little crisis of confidence, hence the super quick update!  
****Thanks for your words of encouragement - I am ploughing on with my original ideas.  
I am only borrowing these characters, most of them can still be found playing happily(ish) together in Hollyoaks village!  
****To be safe I have changed the rating to an 'M'**

* * *

Cheryl peered through the little peephole in the front door. Her lip turned up in disgust when she saw who was standing on the doorstep. Reluctantly she slid the chain off and pulled the door open.

"D.I. Fox," she greeted the man outside with cool distain. Detective Inspector Warren Fox responded with a smarmy smile, as he rolled a stick of gum round in his mouth, smacking his lips together as it went.

"Cheryl, nice to see you again," he said stepping into the hallway uninvited, shutting the door behind himself. He was drenched from having been out in the storm, rain water dripping from him onto the black and white checkerboard effect tiles, creating little pinpricks of noise. Though it had been a hot day he was dressed in a thick black overcoat, which added further bulk to his already large frame.

"How can I help you today D.I. Fox?" Cheryl struggled to keep the sound of revulsion out of her voice.

"Cheryl please, how many times must I ask you to call me Warren?" he reached out a stubby finger tracing a soft line along the edge of Cheryl's jaw. Cheryl slapped it away.

"Let's just keep this professional shall we?"

"Okay, okay," Warren held up his hands in a sign of surrender, but grinned slyly at the same time.

Cheryl indicated that they should head into the front living room, where she immediately jumped back up from the sofa, when Warren sat down pressing up close next to her. She stood at the other side of the room arms crossed as protection in front of herself, watching Warren warily.

"Did my brother pay you the money?" Cheryl questioned. Warren nodded in affirmative. "Why are you here then?"

"Just making sure you and your girls are safe and well," Warren smirked. "You can never be too careful, just because I am looking the other way professionally speaking doesn't mean that I can't take a personal interest."

Cheryl knew there was nothing worse than a bent cop. They could not be trusted and she was loath that she had to place herself at Warren's mercy. Luckily he was greedy, and she had managed to arrange a little settlement deal with him when had first come sniffing round some years previously. Unfortunately he was greedy and his demands had continued to grow until Cheryl couldn't meet them anymore. Her brother had stepped in. She didn't like to think about how much she must owe him by now.

Obviously Warren expected other little perks, other than the money to buy his silence. So far Cheryl had managed to keep him at bay, but she wondered what would happen if the threatening, if absent, presence of her brother ever failed. For now it mostly kept Warren's wandering hands in check, Cheryl could only imagine too well what would happen otherwise.

"Is that all?" Cheryl asked him, walking over to the door that led back into the hallway, as an indication that she wanted Warren to leave.

"For now." He winked at her. Out in the hallway he lent in close to Cheryl's ear, his hot breath on her skin making her shudder. "You know one day big brother might not be here looking out for you," he murmured dangerously into her ear.

Cheryl threw open the front door, desperate to get this man out the house.

"D.I. Fox." She gave a curt nod.

"Ms Fisher," Warren mimicked her formal tone on his way back out into the pouring rain.

Cheryl was about to slam the door behind him, when she heard him chuckle, "Mercedes McQueen," he nudged at a dark shape on the floor with the toe of shoe, before walking briskly off down the road. Cheryl looked down at the dark lump on the street, sighing in agitation. This was all she needed to deal with, an inebriated Mercedes. She stepped out of the door, feeling the stinging of the raindrops hitting her skin, and bent down to pick the comatose woman up. She struggled with her back into the house, Mercedes' legs dragging limply along the floor, her wet feet were bare. God knows where her shoes are thought Cheryl.

She managed to manoeuvre Mercedes into the living room, before dumping her undignified onto one of the sofas. She retrieved a bucket, a glass of water, and some max strength painkillers from the kitchen and deposited them on the floor next to the sofa where Mercedes was lying. She would have to leave her there to sleep it off. It wouldn't be the first time.

Satisfied that all was as well as it could be Cheryl retreated down the stairs to her basement sanctuary. She turned on a small lamp in the corner, careful not to disturb the two sleeping children on her bed. She retrieved her phone from out of the pocket of her trousers and checked it for messages. Nothing, Then she checked the time. It had been over two hours since Ste had text her to say he was on his way over. Now it was past midnight and she had not heard a peep from him since. Concern began to coil itself tightly deep in her stomach. She tried ringing him again. It went straight to voicemail. She left another message. Then she sat curled up in the big comfy armchair that sat in one corner of the room. She waited.

oxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Mitzeee Minniver was lounging legs outstretched on the three-seater sofa in the living area. It was a long spacious room. One end was all exposed brick wall, with two large airy windows. The other walls were all plain plasterboard, painted in white. In the middle of the room were two huge metal girders, part of the old internal steel structure, now exposed since the building had been converted into modern apartments. Between the pillars ran a great steel beam. They were all painted in grey, acting as a makeshift divider between one half of the room and the other. A polished oak floor ran the length of the room.

There was one three-seater and one two-seater sofa, both in the same cream suede material, in the half of the room nearest the windows. On them were scattered a variety of cushions in red and gold tones. Along one wall a low white cabinet with sleek lines and silver handles sat, with a large flat screen TV on top. Beside it was a tall bookshelf, again in white, filled with books, CDs, and DVDs. On the brick wall between the two windows hung a huge print in red and white of Sean Connery as James Bond striking the classic gun-toting pose associated with the character. Stout round cactuses sat on each windowsill, one currenty sporting a small fluffy pink flower

The other half of the room had a large dining table, with a glass top and chrome legs, surrounded by six chairs in chrome with black seats. The end wall had two large sliding glass doors that had bands of blue colour running across them. They opened up into the well-appointed kitchen. The cabinets were all blue, made of a shiny plastic material. All the mod-cons were there, fitted into the kitchen, hidden behind simulated blue cabinet doors.

Mitzeee picked up her glass of pink champagne from the side table. Only the best for Mitzeee Minniver she thought to herself. Shuffling back into the sofa to get more comfortable she continued talking. "They loved me, though of course why wouldn't they?" She remembered the feeling of being on stage earlier, crowds screaming below her. It was possible her memory was exaggerating things slightly, but her debut performance wasn't a complete disaster at least. She twirled a long strand of her thick dark hair around and around her fingers until it fell back into a curl again, looking across at the person she had been talking to. A slight fair lad sat at the other end of the sofa, massaging Mitzeee's feet where they rested in his lap. She wiggled her toes then requested, "a little more pressure please." The lad acquiesced kneading at the soles of her feet a little harder.

"I mean I only got to do a couple of songs today, but I was on the main stage. Imagine it Mitzeee Minniver; model slash artiste." She smiled to herself as she thought about it. Her smile became a little big bigger, a bit more brash, and definitely more forced as the sound of a raised voice filtered through the wall from the office on the other side. It was as if she believed her smile could block the bad stuff out. She continued brightly "My name up in lights. Mitzeee with three 'Es'."

A door at the other end of the room swung open as she talked. A man in a sharp grey suit strode in. He was tall, broad shouldered, his shirt tucked in showed how his waist tapered to his hips. His dark hair was neatly groomed. He started smoothing down his moustache as he approached the sofa. "So Mitzeee with three 'Es' it went well I take it?" he stooped down placing a small kiss on her cheek.

"Baby cakes where were you?" she chided him. "You said you would be there for my performance," she pouted at him, throwing the fall force of her puppy dog eyes at him.

"I'm sorry honey bunch, something came up you know how it is." The man turned to stare at the young lad still sitting there rubbing Mitzeee's feet, "Vincent, don't you have somewhere else you can be?" he asked pointedly, raising his eyebrows. Vinnie removed Mitzeee's feet from his lap before slouching out of the room.

Once the door was closed behind him Mitzeee looked up at the man towering over her. So very very masculine, she shivered at the thought. He sat down in the place vacated by Vinnie, placing Mitzeee's feet in his lap and continuing the ministrations to the soft pads of her soles. Mitzeee adjusted her position again so that the silk dressing gown she was wearing slipped open, slightly revealing the black lacy bustier she was wearing underneath. Mitzeee knew how to drive men wild. She had been practicing the art for years. She lent her head back slightly onto the arm of the sofa exposing the long reach of her neck, shaking her hair back to show-off her clear creamy skin. "Brendan," she moaned breathily from the pleasure of having certain pressure points pressed in her feet.

"Anne please." The rough hands ceased their work.

Mitzeee sighed, she knew if Brendan used her real name he must have had a tough day. Trying to keep the mood light stuck her tongue out in mischievous gesture followed by a cheeky wink "tease." Nevertheless she shuffled up the sofa a bit removing her feet from Brendan's lap, but not bothering to tighten her dressing gown around herself. She resumed her methodical twisting of fingers in hair with one hand, taking another sip of her drink with the other. Brendan stood up, but quickly returned from the kitchen with his own glass of pink champagne, returning to his place on the sofa with Mitzeee.

"So do you want to talk about it?" she pressed, "tough day at the office?"

"No. Nothing for you to worry about." He squeezed her knee affectionately.

"And how about you and blondie?" she asked nodding her head towards the door which Vinnie had recently departed through.

Brendan remained silent for a moment, twirling the delicate stem of the champagne flute in his fingers. "You seem to have him well trained," Brendan said referring to the foot rub that he had seen in action earlier.

Mitzeee smiled wickedly, "well it turns out that if you tell him making me happy will keep the boss happy he'll do anything I ask." She took another sip of her drink, then gently prodded Brendan with her toe, "that didn't answer my question!"

Brendan hummed almost as if to himself, a low vibration down in his throat.

Mitzeee sighed in frustration, "you're no fun tonight."

Brendan rolled his eyes, like he cared. Life was bugging him at the moment. The old thrills no longer seemed to excite him anymore, he felt flat, his usual reserves of energy apparently all used up. Perhaps he was past it.

"You are not past it." Brendan snapped out of his reverie to find Mitzeee scrutinising him carefully. Sometimes he could swear that girl could read his mind.

"What?" he tried to laugh it off with a sharp snort.

Mitzeee sat up straighter leaning over to walk her fingers up Brendan's chest before gently tapping him on the nose playfully, "Bren I can read you like a book."

Brendan rolled his eyes again.

"Perhaps," Mitzeee suggested with mock seriousness, "you need a new toy."

Perhaps she was right.

Mitzeee extracted herself from the sofa, bending down to place a light kiss on Brendan's lips, "all this talk of toys, I think I'm going to take myself off to bed…" she winked dirtily at him before leaving the room. Brendan shuddered at the mental images now trying to invade his mind.

oxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

The canal towpath was a mixture of earth and pebbles. The earth had quickly turned into a boggy mess as the rainwater turned it into mud. Ste walked along it as quickly as he could allowing for the slip sliding of his feet below him. As he walked further away from the bright lights of the city behind him it became harder and harder to see. The clouds were blocking any moonlight to guide his path. He thought about illuminating his mobile phone screen and using it as a makeshift torch, but when he tried to turn it on he realised the battery had died.

It didn't take too long before he could see the outline of the high-rise flats in the distance. Finally he reached the embankment he would need to scramble up in order to get onto the road above that crossed the canal on a little humpback bridge. It was quiet at this time of night. No cars rushing past like during the day. He placed his hand on the bricks of the bridge about to edge his way up the grassy slope when another bolt of lightening lit up the area for a moment. Ste blinked. He was sure he had just spotted a couple of people up ahead. Ste shrugged. It wasn't any of his business. But then there was another flash, and this time something glinted in the distance. The sound of voices started to float towards him carried on the wind. Ste peered a little harder through the dark. It was hard to see through the sheeting rain, but Ste thought he could just make out two men, judging by their build, and there was a third shadow, shorter, smaller than the others. A dog maybe. Curiosity piqued Ste edged a little further under the bridge, sheltered from the rain. Another flash of lightening struck forking through the sky. Ste gasped as it illuminated the scene in front of him. The smaller figure was a person. A person kneeling. It looked like they might be blindfolded and gagged, as Ste couldn't really make out any facial features. The other two figures seemed to be arguing, still unaware of Ste's presence a few yards away. With a jolt Ste realised what had glinted, it was a gun. The bigger guy was holding a gun. Ste stepped back, pressing himself flush against the brick arch of the bridge, hoping he would be swallowed up by the dark shadows and held his breath.

Out of the corner of his eye he could still see the two men looked like they were arguing. Then bang. It could have been another crack of thunder. The kneeling form disappeared from sight into the water. Ste closed his eyes tightly. He shouldn't be here, he shouldn't be here, the mantra was running over and over in his head. He had just witnessed a murder. No if possible worse. An execution. If he were discovered here he would be dead.


	4. Chapter 4

The pouring rain finally began to ease off, and the heavy clouds above started to break up and move away. The black night sky was starless, but there was a full moon, which glowed with a weak silvery light. Ste continued to press himself tightly back against the rough bricks of the humpback bridge he was hiding under. He tried to control his shaky breathing, unable to believe the two men a little further down the towpath couldn't hear him as he drew in raspy breath after raspy breath, trying to get the racing of his heart to slow down as adrenaline pumped round his body. His legs felt unsteady below him, like they would collapse if he so much as tried to move a millimetre.

He covertly peeked to his side again. Shit the two men were walking in his direction. The slighter taller one, the one who had fired the gun, seemed to be pushing the other one along in front of him. The shorter one stumbled to the ground, Ste thought it looked like he was throwing up. The larger guy clutched at the fallen guy's jacket hauling him back to his feet, pushing him forward again. They were a matter of yards from the bridge now. Ste closed his eyes, and began knocking his head against the bricks behind him, as if he hoped to dislodge a genius idea for escape from deep within his brain. He glanced to the side again. His breath caught in his throat. He could see the faces of the men now, they were getting that close, and he recognised that of the smaller guy. It was Joel. His usual cocky demeanour was absent, his usually perfectly quaffed hair plastered to his head from the rain, and there looked to be a nasty gash running from the side of his mouth upwards over his cheek. The sort of cut that could have been caused by being hit by the barrel of a gun.

The taller guy seemed cool, calm and collected in comparison. Ste didn't think he had seen him before, the chiselled jaw and sharp cheekbones of his face didn't ring any bells of recognition. His hair was dark and swept back from his face, but it was wet and slicked back from the rain, and Ste fancied that it might not be really be as dark as it appeared now. Ste noticed that he had a small hoop earring at the top of his left ear, but other than that he didn't have any particularly distinguishing features. He was just dressed casually in some dark blue jeans and a khaki jacket.

Who this guy was, was the least of Ste's worries right at that point anyway. Any moment now Joel and the stranger would be walking under the bridge, and Ste would be revealed; the safety that shadows had brought him lost. He wondered whether the end would be quick. He wondered if Joel would take mercy on him, though Ste didn't for one second think Joel held the power in this pairing.

Another brief look to the side told Ste his fate could only be a matter of seconds away now. He caught a vision of the pure terror that deadened Joel's eyes. He wondered if Joel could see him now? If he could he had shown no sign of it. For now the darkness was still concealing him. Ste thought of Leah and Lucas. How they would be left all alone in the world. He thought of Amy, wondered where she was now. Would she find out he had disappeared and return to claim Leah and Lucas. He wondered if she ever thought of them now. Ste wondered how he was supposed to greet death. Was he supposed to beg for his life, knowing his pleas probably would not be answered; or was he supposed to accept it quietly, graciously, with dignity? Either way the outcome would be the same.

He found himself unable to tear his eyes away from the approaching pair now, watching his impending doom advance upon him. Ste's whole body was tense with the anticipation of being discovered. He held his breath waiting. But just before they reached the entrance to the bridge, they veered off to the side, scrambling up the embankment Ste has intended to climb not 10 minutes ago on his way home. Ste allowed himself to exhale slowly for a moment, closing his eyes when he heard the roar of a car engine coming to life on the road above him. He waited there under the bridge for an eternity until he felt sure that the Joel and his companion would be long gone. Gingerly he began to crawl up the grass verge, alert to every sound around him. Any sound that meant he had been caught out. As he reached the top he glanced around himself cautiously, there was no sign of any cars or people. He pulled himself to his feet and then began to run. He ran as fast as he ever had, and didn't stop until he had climbed the four flights of stairs to his flat, sprinted down the outside corridor, and fell breathlessly in through his front door, locking and bolting it behind him.

Then the giant crashing sobs overwhelmed him. He collapsed into his bed, realising he was shivering uncontrollably. His clothes were wet through, sticking and clinging uncomfortably to his body, but he could not muster the strength to remove them. He dragged the duvet cover up and over his head, concealing himself away and then lay there letting the racking sobs consume him until the point of weary exhaustion. Finally as the sun began to rise over the horizon he fell into a fitful sleep.

oxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

The sound of the intercom buzzer woke Brendan up from where he was slumbering uncomfortably on the sofa in his living room. He must have dozed off. He checked his watch, it was just after two in the morning. He walked over to where the intercom hung on the wall. He pressed the button to allow him to communicate with whoever it was outside.

"Yes?" Brendan barked.

"It's me," came the reply.

"Has it been done?" Brendan asked.

"Yes."

"Good, well what you doing here then?"

"Joel freaked out," a low chuckle was transmitted.

Brendan snorted, "that was the point."

"Can I come up?"

"Not tonight Walker."

He wasn't in the mood for the power struggles or mind games tonight.

oxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox o

A loud knocking at the front door awoke Ste about mid-morning. He rolled over to look at the alarm clock on his bedside table, 11.30am already. The events of the previous night were fuzzy almost dreamlike in his mind. Ste wondered whether it had all just been a terrible nightmare. The continued knocking forced him to stretch and clamber stiffly out of bed, his muscles were aching from the prolonged running he had done last night.

He walked silently to the door, not wanting to alert whoever was at the door that he was in until he knew who it was. He was about to look through the security peep hole, when a loud voice shouted through the thin door, "It's Sunday, you promised me my rent today," the pounding continued on the door rattling it in its frame, so that Ste was afraid it would actual cave in under the force.

It was the landlord come to collect. Ste didn't have the money, Joel had seen to that yesterday. The thought of Joel caused him to shudder involuntarily as the memories of what he had witnessed late last night flooded back. "Ste where's my money?" the voice continued to shout through the door. He could here the next-door neighbours dog going crazy through the wall. There was a large crack as the front door was kicked open from outside, ripping the bolt from the wall. Ste cowered back as the large form of his landlord advanced upon him, pining up against the hallway wall.

"Where's my money?"

"Ger'off me Ally," Ste gasped for breath. Ally just pressed harder on to his windpipe. Ste grappled at Ally's strong arm, he was ex-army and built like a tank, Ste stood no chance against him, he just had to hope that Ally would be reasonable. "Look I'll have the money for you before the end of the day okay?"

Ally lightened the pressure of his hold slightly. "You best had otherwise you're out of here, d'ya hear me?" Ally hissed at him, stepping back releasing Ste fully. Ste nodded, rubbing at his neck, which was tender from the pressure just exerted on it.

oxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

"Oh my God, Ste, where have you been?" Cheryl pulled him in to a tight hug, "I've been so worried about you."

"Chez you're crushing me," Ste tried to joke, but Cheryl just squeezed him tighter, before holding him at arms length and studying him carefully.

"Are you okay? What happened to you last night? I sat up all night waiting for you."

Ste allowed Cheryl to drag him through the hallway into the kitchen at the back. "Where are Leah and Lucas?" he asked.

"Rae's taken them out for some fresh air, they were starting to go a bit stir-crazy," Cheryl smiled fondly, "so spill, what happened to you last night 'cos I have to tell you Ste you look awful." She pushed a cup of coffee in Ste's direction along the kitchen counter.

Ste lowered his voice, "is there anybody around?"

"Ruby and Sinead are upstairs, God only knows where Mercedes is." She had disappeared from the couch when Cheryl had checked in on her this morning. "Why what is going on Ste?"

Ste rubbed a hand through his hair. He knew he probably shouldn't say anything, but he felt fit to burst keeping this in, and there was nobody he trusted more than Cheryl. "I bumped into Joel Dexter last night, have you heard of him?"

"Yeah I know about Joel, you should steer clear Ste, that kid has got himself caught up in some right dodgy company."

"Yeah, well he took the money I made yesterday." Cheryl made a noise of disgust. Ste dropped his voice to a whisper leaning closer to Cheryl, "it gets worse."

"Worse?"

"Last night I saw him and some other guy by the canal, they shot someone."

"Shit Ste," Cheryl gasped, "did they see you?"

"No I don't think so."

"Oh Ste I hope you're right," Cheryl began pacing up and down the kitchen agitatedly. "The kind of people Joel associates with are not to be messed with."

Ste frowned, momentarily wondering what Cheryl knew about the gang Joel was obviously a part of, but was distracted as Cheryl gripped his arm tightly. "You haven't told anyone else what you saw have you Ste?"

"No, I'm not stupid Chez."

"Good."

"What should I do then?"

"Nothing, absolutely nothing."

"But Cheryl they killed someone."

"Ste love just be thankful it wasn't you," Cheryl pulled him into another bear hug. Ste knew Cheryl was right, it would be suicidal to go to the police.

"Look Cheryl I best get going, I need to get some more money together, Ally is after the rent, can you look after Leah and Lucas for a bit longer please?"

"Of course love, you know they're no bother."

"Thanks Chez."

Ste was aware that the second day of the festival would be under way by now, he needed to get his head together and get out there. Hopefully Joel would be keeping his head down so there would be no risk of a repeat of yesterday's run-in with him. Ste downed the rest of his coffee, pecked Cheryl on the cheek and promised her he would be back tonight this time.

The storm from last night had completely cleared and the sun shone brightly in the sky again. Good that meant it would be busy again. If he was lucky Ste thought he should be able to make back yesterday's losses easily. He trod the familiar path from Cheryl's house back into the very heart of the city where people were amassing. He mingled amongst them, waiting for an easy target to present itself. The first wallet he tried to snatch from a back pocket he ended up fumbling to the floor. He groaned silently as he watched it drop, he couldn't risk getting noticed picking it up, he could try circling back later and see if what still lying there when the owner had moved on, but he doubted it. He moved on, deeper into the crowd where his sticky fingers were more likely to go unnoticed. He glanced up at the stage, where there was a petite girl with a huge mass of brunette hair tumbling around her shoulders, that was keeping all the men in the crowd entranced with her movements as she sang. This was a good chance for Ste. He pressed himself up against a woman in front of him, pretending the crowd behind him was pushing him forward. He sneaked his hand out reaching for the bulge in the back pocket of the man standing beside her. He was about to make the steal when he felt himself being tugged backwards by the shoulder.

"He's a cop," a low voice whispered into his ear.

Ste whipped round, but all he found was a sea of people singing and bouncing along to the woman on stage. Ste supposed he should be thankful to whoever it was, if they were right and that had been a cop he would have been in big trouble if had been caught. His insides weighed heavy though. He had been at this for an hour now and had had no success. He still felt too edgy, he needed to relax. He escaped the suffocating closeness of the crowd around him, as he left he heard an announcer asking everyone to applaud for Mitzeee 'with three E's' who had just been on, and introducing the next act to perform.

As he walked away from the stage, he heard the same gravely voice that had warned him about the policeman, "you're welcome." Ste looked around for where the Irish lilt had come from. A tall man standing over in a shop doorway beckoned him over with the flick of a finger. Ste felt strangely drawn to him, disregarding the warning bells ringing in his head. Ste walked over slowly. The guy was dressed sharply in a blue shirt and cream suit. He had dark hair, and a dark moustache adorned his upper lip. Ste frowned to himself. That was weird wasn't it, who had a moustache nowadays? He was rolling a stick of gum over in his mouth, just waiting for Ste to approach.

"Steven," the man greeted him when he came to a stop in the shop entrance along side the taller man.

"How…?"

"Brendan Brady," the man introduced himself cutting off Ste's question about how he knew what his name was. He proffered a hand, which Ste nervously shook.

At that point the woman from the stage tottered over, who curves highlighted in the tight mini dress she was wearing. She ignored Ste at first, wrapping her arms around Brendan planting a kiss on his lips, "you came!" she exclaimed at him, "what did you think?"

"Fabulous," Brendan replied dryly. Mitzeee pouted in reply before playfully punching Brendan on the arm. Ste wondered if he should just leave, he didn't know what this Brendan wanted with him, but as he had caught him pick pocketing he imagined it couldn't be good. Before he came to a decision Mitzeee finally acknowledged his presence there.

"Who's this babe?" she asked Brendan, cocking her head towards Ste.

"This is Steven," Brendan replied.

"Actually it's just Ste," Ste interjected.

"Oh right," Mitzeee looked confused, but offered a perfectly manicured hand for Ste to shake.

"Steven and me are just discussing some business," Brendan said to Mitzeee pointedly.

"Okay," Mitzeee held her hands up in surrender, then used them to smooth the lapels of Brendan's suit jacket, "are you going to join us for a drink?"

"Yes, I'll met ye there in a bit."

"Okay," Mitzeee tottered off back into the crowd.

Brendan returned his attention to Ste. "So ye lookin' to make some money Steven?"

"Wha'?" Ste was still thrown that Brendan seemed to know who he was, or at the very least his name. "Yes, I've got two young kids to feed, okay?!" Ste felt defensive but questioned why he was telling this complete stranger about his children. Brendan hummed sympathetically low in his throat. He handed Ste a small white business card, in simple black text all that was printed on it was an address. "Come by some time, I could sort ye out with a job."

Ste looked at the card suspiciously, in what world did a stranger offer help with no strings attached.

"Don' look so worried Steven, it's all legit," Brendan reassured him. Ste pocketed the card, "okay thanks."

"Right, good good," Brendan patted Ste on the cheek. "Until next time then." He smoothed down his moustache, then strode out into the street. Ste watched him go until he was out of site. He took the business card out of his pocket, turning it over and studying it, but it yielded no clues about the enigmatic man he had just met.


	5. Chapter 5

It was Wednesday morning. Ste was sitting at the table in Cheryl's kitchen; Leah and Lucas were sitting on the other side creating wax crayon masterpieces. He had been hiding out here since Sunday after he failed to make enough money to pay Ally the rent.

"I can lend you the money love," Cheryl had offered him when he returned Sunday afternoon empty handed. Ste had turned her down, he had no idea how he could repay it, and Cheryl had already done so much for him. It was three days later now, and he still had no idea how he was going to get himself back on his feet. Cheryl had told him don't worry you can stay here as long as you need, but it was really not practical. He was sleeping on the floor in Cheryl's basement room, Leah and Lucas in Cheryl's bed, Cheryl on a blow-up mattress. He needed to get something sorted, something permanent.

He turned the small white business card over and over in his hands; he had looked up the address on the Internet. It was street just out of the centre of the city, where there were a lot of tall office buildings. Ste knew he was out of other options; this was perhaps the only hope he had left for the future now.

"Daddy when are we going home?" Leah looked up at him.

"Soon princess, soon." He smiled reassuringly at her. He made a decision; he would go and see Brendan Brady.

oxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

D.I. Warren Fox was sitting at his desk, feet up on the top of it, watching some football on his computer. He took a large bite of his hotdog, cursing as a blob of ketchup fell onto his lap staining his trousers. He could hear the vague sound of raised voices at the other end of the room, and turned his head to find out what the kafuffle was about. He could see D.S. Doug Carter bent over his desk on the phone, gesturing at the fax machine. Bloody Yankee upstart Warren thought to himself. Warren swung his legs off his desk deciding he best find out what was going on.

He planted himself in front of Doug's desk, glaring at him until Doug apologetically held his call for a moment. "What's going off Dougie?" he asked.

Doug placed his hand over the receiver staring up at his superior. "Woman's body has been dragged out of the canal."

Shit thought Warren, some tart probably, causing him work. "Any I.D.?"

"Not yet."

Warren shook his head and sighed in frustration. Trust this to be on his patch. "Well I best get down there. You get a team together, wait for my word." Warren hoped none of his contacts were involved; he didn't need the headache of having to cover more shit up. As he left the office he heard Doug muttering into his phone that D.I. Fox was on his way.

oxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

The office block loomed high and large above Ste. He craned his neck back, trying to count how many floors, maybe fifteen he guessed, he looked up and down the street he was on. It all seemed, normal. There were a few other people walking up and down the road, a man in a suit with a briefcase, a couple of woman chatting animatedly to each other as they walked into a different building a little further down. Ste shrugged to himself, he had come this far. He pushed open the heavy glass doors and walked into a large foyer.

There was a blonde girl sitting behind a reception desk, she was talking excitedly into the phone that she had tucked in between her ear and her shoulder. She was simultaneously working on her fingernails with an emery board, every now and again holding her hand away from her to admire her work. She ignored Ste as he walked in. He took the opportunity to have a brief look around him. The wide expanse of floor looked like it was creamy marble, which extended half up the walls. The top half of the walls were painted an olive green. A gold band ran around the middle where the two halves met. At the far end were two lifts, the metal doors in the same brassy gold, and to the side of them large double doors that had a sign saying 'stairs' above them. Next to the lifts was a list of all the floors. There were obviously three or four companies occupying this one building. Ste wondered which one Brendan worked for.

Finally the girl at the reception desk finished her call. "May I help you?" she directed the question to Ste. Ste walked back over to the desk. "Err yeah, is Mr Brady free?"

"Can I ask who wants to see him?"

"Ste Hay."

The girl picked her phone back up, examining her nails again as she waited for an answer. "Hi, I have a Ste Hay here to see Mr Brady?" Ste wrung his hands together as he watched and waited. "Okay," the girl placed the phone back down, looking back at Ste, "please wait over there," she pointed at a couple of couches arranged around a low coffee table. Ste strolled over taking a seat; he wondered how long he would have to wait. He idly flicked through a couple of magazines on the table, but they were all about economics and finance, and Ste could barely read about half the words. He put the magazines back down on the table and returned to fiddling with the cuffs of his sleeves instead.

As his mind began to drift off, wondering what sort of business Brendan Brady was in, and what on earth he could do in a place like this a sharp buzz at the reception desk made him jump. The blonde girl pressed a button on her phone, a breathy female Irish voice spoke through it, "Maddie you can send Mr Hay up now please."

Maddie clicked the intercom off, "My Hay, Mr Brady will see you now, it's the top floor, number 15," she indicated towards the lifts at the far side of the foyer. "Thanks," Ste replied standing up and walking over to them, pressing the call button. As he waited for the lift to arrive he noticed there was no company name in the fifteenth floor slot. Odd he thought to himself.

The doors slid open as one of the lifts arrived. Before Ste could get in a young lad stumbled out into the foyer almost tumbling straight into Ste. He was a little shorter than Ste, his fair hair looked ruffled and messy like he had been running his hands through it in frustration, but the main thing Ste noticed about him was his red-rimmed eyes. Ste wondered if he had been crying. Not very professional for the workplace was it? Ste stepped into the lift and pressed the button for the fifteenth floor, watching the other lad flee the building through the main doors before the lift doors closed, blocking his view.

The back wall of the lift was one huge mirror. Ste studied his reflection critically hoping what he was wearing was okay. He had tried to make some sort of an effort, but now he was here he felt that he looked totally out of place. He had on his best pair of jeans, and the only shirt he owned which was a yellowy colour. He only had his one pair of scruffy trainers though. He sighed to himself, there was nothing he could do about it now.

The doors opened with a small ping as he reached his designated floor. He stepped out into another reception area, though this was much smaller than the foyer downstairs. The woman sitting at the desk there looked up and smiled at him as he exited the lift, "Mr Hay?" she asked. It was the same breathy Irish voice he had heard over the intercom. "Yes," he answered her. "Mr Brady will be right with you if you'll just take a seat, can I get you a drink or anything?"

"Erm just a tea I guess, ta."

With a flick of her rich brown hair she disappeared through a door behind her desk, leaving Ste alone to study his surroundings. There were still no more clues up here as to what business Brendan Brady was in, and Ste was none the wiser about what sort of job he might have in mind for him. The intercom on the desk crackled into life, "Lynsey?" "Lynsey?" Ste recognised the gruff Irish voice. Lynsey came hurrying back from the kitchen, pressing a button, "Mr Brady?" "You can send Mr Hay in now." "Yes Mr Brady." Lynsey smiled over at Ste, "you can go in now, good luck." She pointed at a pair of heavy wooden doors.

Ste knocked firmly on the doors, opening them a fraction and peaking his head in. Brendan was sitting behind a huge glass desk, completely empty apart from a computer sitting on one corner and on the other one of those desk toys, where the little silver balls could be swung and ricocheted off each other. He was tilted back in his chair, swivelled so he was looking away from the desk and out of the huge glass windows behind him, which allowed a panoramic view of the concrete maze of the city below. Ste coughed low in his throat to alert Brendan of his presence. Brendan turned to face the door in his chair, beckoning Ste in with his hand.

"Mr Brady," Ste offered his hand to be shaken, but Brendan just continued to sit, momentarily trailing his eyes up and down Ste but otherwise making no move towards him.

"CV?" Brendan asked him.

"What?"

"Curriculum Vitae?" .

Ste sensed Brendan was laughing at him internally. He frowned, he didn't have a CV, what on earth was he going to put on it. "Err I don't have a CV."

Brendan scowled at him, "how am I supposed to offer ye a job if I don't know what skills ye have?"

Ste felt himself blush hot red in embarrassment, he knew he shouldn't have come here. Brendan sighed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose, then swivelled back to look through the windows. Ste wondered if that was it, was that a dismissal? He started to edge back towards the double doors to leave. "Did I say you could leave?" the Irish voice barked at him, spinning back round in his chair, "take a seat," he indicated to a chair on the other side of his desk, which Ste obediently took.

"Ye have two kids ye said?" Ste nodded, feeling like Brendan was continuing to scrutinise him. Granted he hadn't been on many job interviews, but he was fairly certain this wasn't normal. Brendan cocked his head to one side and narrowed his eyes, "aren't ye a bit young to have kids already?"

Oh great Ste thought, now he's judging me. Ste just shrugged in response.

"And their mother?" Brendan continued to question him.

Ste felt the squeeze on his heart as he thought of Amy, "my girlfriend has been missing for the past two years." Ste noticed a flash of something in Brendan's eyes at the word 'girlfriend', but if was gone too quickly for him to try and make sense of what it was.

"Ye still love her?"

Ste knew this was not your average interview question, but yet he felt a strange compulsion to answer. "Yes." He said without hesitation. Brendan looked at him blankly for a moment. As Ste waited for what would happen next he found himself mulling over Brendan's previous question, and his answer. Did he still love Amy? He had never really considered it that carefully, he certainly hadn't meet anybody else that he wanted to be with since she had disappeared from his life, but did that mean he still loved her? He assumed so. Brendan remained silent, his eyes were boring into Ste as if looking for something. Ste guessed he didn't have whatever it was those searching eyes were seeking, as Brendan stood from his desk, "well thanks for coming in Steven."

Ste stood, was that it? A few odd questions and no talk of a job at all apart from wanting to see his CV. Brendan walked around his desk and to the double doors, opening one of them and standing back to allow Ste access to leave. "Erm well thank-you for seeing me Mr Brady," Ste felt like that was the polite thing to say, though from his point of view the whole morning had been a complete waste of time. He walked back out into the reception area. Lynsey was sitting furiously typing at her desk. Ste wandered over to her, "err could I use your toilets please?" he asked her. She nodded pointing down a corridor, "they're on the left down there."

Ste entered into the pristine facilities, entering the nearest cubicle. He leant back against the door a moment as the nauseating feeling of disappointment and failure washed over him. He had felt so sure that this meeting might have led to a job, after-all Brendan had practically offered him one right there and then on the street on Sunday. He let out a deep sigh then went about his business, he had to remain strong for Leah and Lucas; something would come up. It had to. He thought about perhaps going to look Callum up, getting back into the drug running. It was good money. Would solve all his problems as long as he didn't get caught. Or killed. Ste wondered if that had been the fate of the person he witnessed on Saturday night, before quickly trying to shake his head of those memories.

He finished up his business, before slowly traipsing back down the corridor to the lifts. It was time to go face the real world again. As he got closer to the reception area he could hear some indistinguishable muffled noises, he glanced round the corner and saw Brendan, his head buried into the crook of Lynsdey's neck, her hands running through his hair, and down his back, pulling him against her tighter. Ste rolled his eyes, figures he'd have a thing going with his secretary. Ste was about to walk right past them to the lift, supposing it was best just to ignore them when an idea came to him. Wasn't Brendan dating that singer, what was her name? Mitzeee, yeah Mitzeee with three 'E's'. Ste rolled his eyes again. Seizing the opportunity he pulled his mobile out of his pocket, switching it to camera mode and snapped some pictures of the embrace in front of him.

The artificial camera noise alerted the couple in front of him to his presence, and they jumped apart. Lynsey had the decency to look bashful, Brendan looked furious, but Ste couldn't help but smirk; he had the upper hand now. Brendan stalked over to him, "what d'ye think ye're doin'?" he hissed at him. Ste shuddered slightly as the taller bigger man bore down over him, but determined to stand his ground. He had seen his chance and he was not going to leave this building without securing a job first.

"How d'ya think your 'famous' girlfriend will feel about having these pictures splashed all over the papers?" Ste couldn't help but use air quotation marks at the word famous, but he was pretty certain this Mitzeee character wouldn't want the shame of her boyfriend playing away being public knowledge, hardly good for her image, or budding career. Ste thought he saw the hint of a smile playing on Brendan's lips, but before he could really identify it the larger man had taken a step closer to him.

"What do you want Steven?" Brendan hissed into his ear.

"A job."

Brendan let out a short laugh, "ye blackmailing me for a job?"

Ste gulped and nodded, Brendan was standing so close to him now he could feel the radiating warmth of his body, he wondered if he had bitten off more than he could chew."

"Okay, Madison downstairs is on holiday for two weeks, so you can start off by covering her position, think ye can manage that?" Ste felt like Brendan was silently laughing at him again. He nodded determined to prove himself.

"Good, I'm sure ye can't be any more useless than she is." Brendan stepped back a little, then held his hand out palm up, "phone," he demanded. Ste handed his phone over. "Ye kids?" Brendan asked as he looked at the picture he had as his wallpaper.

"Yeah Leah and Lucas."

"Cute." Brendan flicked through the phone, deleting the offending photos. "Be here Monday, 8am sharp." Then Brendan dismissed him, walking back across the reception area to his own office, the doors closing firmly behind him. Lynsey was back at her desk, head down, but strangely Ste thought it looked like she was smiling to herself. He pressed the call button at the lift, as the doors slid open and he stepped inside Lynsey wished him a pleasant day.

oxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Brendan sat back in his chair behind his desk. He laughed to himself as he thought about the audacity of the young lad he had just given a job to. He had balls, he's give him that. His mood darkened though as he turned back to his computer clicking on the email he had just received five minutes ago. It was from his solicitors Osbourne and Dean, informing him his ex-wife Eileen had been granted fall custody of his boys and he had limited visitation rights. Yeah very limited considering they were on the other side of the Irish Sea still. He composed a short sharp email back to them explaining that he had decided to grant himself full custody of his bank account for the next few months, visitation rights for them would be considered at some later point and hit the send button.

He span round in his chair so he was looking out of the clean glass panels of his window. From here he could survey the whole city below him, his personal empire, an ocean of opportunity below him. His mind wandered to another young lad. Vincent. His outburst earlier. One minute the boy had been on his knees at Brendan's feet, his mouth hot and wet around Brendan's cock, the next minute he had been crying and weeping about relationships and wanting more. It had been six months now. Brendan decided perhaps it was time to cut him free. Mitzeee was probably right, he needed a new toy. A new distraction from life. He was distracted from his thoughts by the ringing of his phone.

"Yes Lynsey?" he answered. Nobody had his direct line.

"I have D.I. Fox on the line for you."

"Okay." Brendan waited for the click that signified the call had been transferred. "Foxy to what do I owe this pleasure?" he drawled down the phone.

"Body found in the canal, one of yours?" Warren got straight to the point.

"No," Brendan brushed the accusation off, "has it been identified?"

"Worried are ya?" Warren laughed, "not yet, I'm just on my way to check it out now."

"Well keep me posted won't you?" Brendan remained unflustered.

"Oh I'll be in touch," Warren promised.

"I'm sure you will, _D.I._ Fox," Brendan emphasised the title sneeringly, then hung up.

He turned back to the view. Unfortunate he thought to himself.

* * *

**A/N How did we all enjoy #TheHeist? Good right?!**

**Hope you are all finding this story okay, I'm on a bit of a roll writing-wise, probably at risk of over-exposure.**

**I think more STENDAN interaction in the next chapter**


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